


you're so beautiful (I'm scared)

by fallingconstellations



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Jun - soft sweater boy, Jun has a stutter, Jun is sad but Minghao helps, M/M, Minghao - gentle artist boy, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingconstellations/pseuds/fallingconstellations
Summary: Jun is invisible. Maybe not literally, but in all the ways it really matters. He's so used to not being seen at all, but then a new student, Minghao, transfers into his dance class.Minghao looks at him, and sees everything.





	you're so beautiful (I'm scared)

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii
> 
> I came up with this idea and wrote it very quickly today, so apologies for any errors. 
> 
> this kind of works as a one shot but I also have a larger story in mind, so let me know in the comments after reading if you think I should turn it into a chaptered fic!
> 
> EDIT: ahhh the response to this has been really lovely!!! I'm definitely planning on writing more of this as soon as I have enough time. don't forget to subscribe/bookmark if you want to keep track! <3

 

 

One year ago, Wen Junhui became invisible. 

Not in a literal sense, of course. If he's being honest, he’d much prefer that. He’d be able to sneak into movie theatres, or move everything in his least favourite professor’s office exactly two inches to the right, or camp out in front of his mailbox so he can find out once and for all who’s really responsible for stealing all of his mail (he’s pretty sure it’s the old lady in the apartment down the hall, in revenge for that one time he stepped on her cat’s tail).

But he’s not the not fun kind of invisible. He’s the kind of invisible where everyone’s eyes pass over him whenever he walks into a room, the kind of invisible that ensures he’s always left as the odd one out every time the instructor tells them to pair up in dance class. The kind of invisible where no one sits next to him in the dining hall, even when he purposefully puts his bag underneath his seat, and not on the seat next to him, in the hopes that someone might come along and strike up a conversation with him.

It hasn’t always been this way. He used to be so outgoing, so free with his movements, with his affection, all of it overflowing like water in a too-small cup, his laughter bursting from his chest like sunbeams. He didn’t care what people thought of him, whether they liked him or not, because he knew that the people who really mattered loved him for who he was. 

But then, his boyfriend at the time turned to him one day and said; 

“You know, it’s really hard to be around you sometimes. It’s just- You’re too much. Too loud.”

Not long after that, he broke up with him, and Jun tried to tell himself it was for the best. 

He was okay with it. They’d been together for over a year, and Jun had convinced himself that he loved him, or at least that he could love him, one day, but there were plenty of other people out there for him. People who wouldn’t kiss him just to make him shut up whenever he got really excited about something and didn’t stop talking about it for days. People who wouldn’t ignore his texts for over a week, then when Jun went to their apartment to check on them, half sick with worry, wouldn’t answer the door half-dressed with hickeys on their neck that Jun certainly hadn’t put there. It was for the best, really.

At least he still had his friends, he told himself. But then his college roommate, a medical student named Jason, who Jun had though of as his very _best_ friend, asked him to move out of their shared apartment; 

“I’m really sorry.” Jason had said. “It’s just that exams are really tough right now. I need to do well, and to do well, I need a productive home environment for studying. I think you’re awesome and all, but sometimes you’re just too-“

“Loud?” Jun had said, at the exact time Jason finished with “-annoying.”

Jun had tried not to feel hurt. Jason was right in the middle of exam season at the time, running on two hours of sleep, fuelled only by instant ramen and four cups of black coffee, so he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind. And sure, Jun had burst into Jason’s room unannounced, had tried to drag him away from his work, but that was only because he’d been studying for twelve hours straight already and Jun was worried about him. But if it’s what Jason wanted, Jun would move out. It wasn’t the end of the world. They’d still be friends.

But then they weren’t. 

Jason stopped inviting him places, and declined whenever Jun asked him if he wanted to come to Jun’s new, much smaller, studio apartment so they could hang out. His responses to Jun’s texts reduced in frequency and syllables, if he ever even responded at all, until they’d gone over a month without speaking. 

Jun’s entire circle of friends had been Jason’s friends first, and soon they followed Jason’s lead, gradually freezing him out now that Jason wasn’t there to include him all the time. He wondered if they were ever really his friends at all, or if they’d only put up with his presence because they had to, like he was a younger sibling who always tagged along when he wasn’t wanted, who they had to be nice to so their parents wouldn't get mad. 

He would have been okay with all that. He could have handled the fact that he’d lost his boyfriend, then every single one of his friends all at once. He still had his safe place, his dance classes, where he could let out all of his emotions and be truly free.

He’d been having a good day, had put everything into perfecting the moves of their new routine. The instructor seemed pleased, had told them all to take a five minute break. Jun had been wound up, so much positive energy inside him bursting to break free, and he’d let it out by going around the room, hanging off peoples’ shoulders, striking up conversations with everyone, and doing stupid dance moves to make them laugh. 

He was about to go over and compliment the girls in the corner of the room on how nicely they’d all done their hair that day, but halfway there he’d realised his shoelace was undone, so he crouched down to tie it.

“He’s lucky he’s pretty. That’s the only reason he gets away with being so weird all the time.” The girls had whispered, laughing to themselves, their faces turned away from him. But Jun had still heard them.

Too much, too loud, too annoying, too weird. All their voices, all their words, bouncing around in his head until they were the only thing he could hear, his ears ringing in a rush of white noise. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard any of those words. He’d been able to brush them off all the other times, been able to ignore the judgemental looks people sometimes shot him when he was just being himself. But things build up over time. A handful of dirt doesn’t seem like much by itself, but collect enough handfuls of dirt, and you’ve got yourself a mountain. This time, Jun heard those words, and something inside of him snapped apart. 

He finished tying his shoelace, stood up, grabbed his bag, and left early. No one even tried to stop him, and the next time he had that class, no one asked where he’d gone. Only the instructor seemed to have noticed, and he only knew that because she’d given him a disappointed look as soon as he walked through the door.

After that day, he withdrew, in small ways at first. He became quieter, only talking if someone spoke to him first. He kept his arms pinned firmly to his sides, even though no one had hugged him since his boyfriend broke up with him, and he desperately wanted to reach out to someone, to anyone. He became hyper-aware of people’s eyes on him, and whenever he felt someone looking, he kept himself still, until they looked away. 

He folded himself up into smaller and smaller pieces, taking up less and less space, until people stopped looking at him altogether. And now, one year later, he tries to convince himself it’s better this way.

 

“Alright, I know you’re all dying to catch up after the break, but don’t expect me to go easy on you just because it’s the first day back. Class starts in ten minutes.” The instructor says.

People, for the most part, ignore her. They’re in their third year of university now, and they’ve long since stopped being afraid of their teachers, no longer hanging off their every word like they know the secrets of the universe. 

They should all be warming up already, but the only one stretching is Jun. Everyone else is too wrapped up in recounting all the amazing trips they went on, catching up with their friends like they haven’t seen them in years rather than since before the Summer break. Jun tries not to think of his lonely apartment with mould growing on the ceiling, where he spent most of his time over the last few weeks, since he couldn’t save up enough money to make the trip home to see his family.

He’s just finishing up his stretches when a boy he’s never seen before walks through the door.  Jun can’t take his eyes off of him. 

Everyone else is wearing dull, baggy sweats, but this boy is wearing a forest green tracksuit, his pants tucked into his socks, which are slipped inside chunky trainers. On his head is a brightly coloured, paint-splattered bucket hat that looks like the design is home-made rather than store-bought. It hides most of his dark hair, but Jun can see some hanging long over the back of his neck. He is, for lack of a better word, beautiful.

The boy's eyes meet Jun’s, and Jun looks away so quickly he makes himself dizzy.

Jun busies himself with retying his shoelaces, adjusting his shirt on his shoulders, fiddles with his phone to look busy. The whole time, he can feel the boy’s eyes on him, and when the boy starts walking towards him, Jun's heart-rate beats so fast he can hear it in his ears. Chunky trainers come into view where his eyes are glued to the scuffed hardwood floor.

“Hi.” The boy says. Jun reluctantly drags his eyes up to look at his face, but he immediately has to look away again because - he’s just a lot. He has the kind of face you would see in a fashion magazine, a mix of softness and sharp angles. 

The boy isn’t discouraged by Jun’s silence, just flops to the ground next to him, crossing his legs comfortably. “I’m Minghao. I just transferred here.” Minghao seems to pause then, and Jun guesses the silence, the empty space, is left intentionally so Jun can tell him his name in return, but he just can’t seem to get the words out. 

He’s waiting for Minghao to roll his eyes, to get up and find someone else to talk to, someone who doesn’t freeze up at the slightest bit of attention, but he never does. Instead, he sits there silently, his eyes warm, his smile tentative. Minghao looks nervous, for some reason, and that’s the only thing that somehow spurs Jun into speaking. 

“Jun.” He winces at the way his voice is scratchy from disuse. “My name’s Jun. 

“It’s nice to meet you Jun.” Minghao’s smile spreads wide.

“Alright everyone.” The instructor yells out. “That’s enough chit-chat. Let’s see how much you’ve practiced over the break.”

For the whole class, Minghao stays just beside him, moving with sharp, powerful movements that Jun finds himself watching in the mirror, falling into sync with him instinctually. He’s good, really good, so good that Jun forgets to care when the instructor stands just in front of them to watch their footwork.

“Good work, Jun.” She says, then she tells the girl next to them to watch Jun and Minghao’s synchronisation, to match their angles. Something soft and warm blooms in Jun’s chest. Heat rushes to his cheeks when Minghao smiles at him as soon as they make eye contact in the mirror.

After class has finished, Minghao lingers while Jun gulps from his water bottle and wipes his face with a towel, the rest of the class having already trickled out. When Jun finally walks towards the door, Minghao falls into step beside him. They walk together all the way outside of the building.

“You’re really good,” Minghao says. “I couldn’t get that step at the end. The spin? But you nailed it.”

“Thanks.” Jun squeaks. “You- you are too. Good, I mean. You’re so g-g-good.” 

Heat rushes to Jun’s cheeks. He can feel the numb feeling spreading to his fingertips, can feel his brain getting loud. He’s waiting for Minghao to laugh at his stutter, and he’s already thinking up an excuse so he can get away and lock himself in the bathroom stall down the hall.

“That means a lot coming from the best dancer in the class.” Is all that Minghao says. It doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic. He’s not holding back laughter, he’s not looking at him like he’s strange, he doesn’t even acknowledge the way Jun is nervously wringing his shaky hands.  

The deafening noise in Jun’s brain stops. He’s so surprised that he forgets to disagree with Minghao’s words, even in his own head. That warm, blooming feeling in his chest is back again, like a flower, growing through a crack in the sidewalk, or just after winter comes to an end. 

Minghao glances at his watch, and disappointment takes over his face. “I have to run to my next class. I’m guessing you’re not headed towards the art building?” Jun shakes his head. “Damn. I have to go that way.”

Minghao points in the opposite direction from where Jun’s education lecture is, off towards the cluster of buildings that always smell of fabric glue and paint when Jun passes them on his way to his bus stop. 

“I-I’ll see you next class then?” Jun asks, trying to sound indifferent, but he’s not sure how well he manages it. He’s wringing his hands again, he can’t help it, it’s almost subconscious at this point, but Minghao’s eyes stay glued to his face.

“Yeah. See you.” Minghao turns to leave, but then he jerks back. “Can I give you my number? I don’t really know the city very well yet. You could take me on a tour some time? Or we could grab coffee?" 

“O-oh.” Jun fumbles around in his pocket, grabs his phone out with his sweaty hand, and thrusts it out towards Minghao.

“Thanks.” Minghao takes it, opens up his contacts then types in his number. He hands the phone back, then turns to leave for real this time, but not before he tosses one last smile over his shoulder. “Bye then. Text me.” He waves lazily, then breaks into a half-jog, late for class.

Jun watches him, keeps watching until long after he’s gone. 

He skips out on his education lecture and goes home in a daze, wondering why it sounded like Minghao just asked him on a date. Four hours later, Jun's still thinking about it, staring at his phone like it’s a piece of alien technology. 

The problem is, Minghao gave Jun his number, but Jun didn’t give Minghao his number. That means he has no choice but to text first. 

Jun doesn’t know if he should wait until tomorrow, or text now. Doesn’t know what Minghao expects of him. He already has a hundred things he wants to ask Minghao, like ‘is art an elective, or is it your second major’, or ‘did you paint your hat yourself?’ or ‘why did you transfer so far into your course?’ but he doesn’t want to seem overeager, or clingy (he remembers;  _stop clinging to me so much, it’s embarrassing, everyone’s looking_ ). But he also doesn’t want Minghao to think he’s rude.

He unlocks his phone, thumbs through it to get to his contacts, scrolls down his admittedly bare contacts list. His hand spasms when he sees that Minghao set his name as ‘Hao from dance’ with a little smiley face next to it.

He opens up a new text, and stares at the cursor blinking on the screen.

_‘_ hi :) _’,_ he types, but then he realises Minghao will probably have no idea who’s texting him, so he erases it. ‘This is Jun from dance class _’_ sounds better, but too formal. 

'hey. I hope you had fun at art class!!! this is jun btw’ _,_ Is what he finally ends up sending. 

Immediately he regrets it. ( _Why did I say 'I hope you had fun at art class', out of the infinite other conversation starters I could have used. It’s class, of course it’s not fun- and why did I add so many exclamation marks? And what if Minghao’s one of those people who hates lowercase? What if I sound too casual?_ ). He’s working himself into a panic, convinced that he blew it, that Minghao will never text him back, but only a few minutes pass before his phone buzzes. 

Jun takes a deep breath, and checks the notification.

 

**Hao from dance :)**

heyyy!! art class was great. we’re going to be working with acrylics this semester and i’m excited

[image sent]

  

Jun stares at the photo, a canvas full of swirling, bright colours. It makes him think of autumn, of leaves on the ground that crunch as he walks, of cinnamon spice lattes, of comfy sweaters.

He struggles to think up a response. He knows nothing about art, doesn’t even know what acrylics are. He’s sure Minghao is going to judge him for his lack of knowledge, is probably going to think he’s uncultured. But he still types out what he thinks about it.

 

**Jun**

that painting’s cool!! i like all the colours. who’s it by?

 

**Hao from dance :)**

i’m so glad you like it! i actually painted it during class today. 

 

**Jun**

really??? woww you’re so talented. 

 

**Hao from dance :)**

that’s nice of u to say :) i’m pretty new to art, actually. i had to change one of my minors because they don’t offer the one i did at my old university here, so i thought, why not give it a try?

 

**Jun**

and you’re so good at it already?? leave some talent for the rest of us pls

 

**Hao from dance :)**

i think you’ve got plenty of your own already ;)

 

Jun blushes, smiling down at his phone like a schoolgirl with a crush. He has to get up and get himself a glass of water to calm down. By the time he gets back to his phone, he has another notification.

 

**Hao from dance :)**

do you know that cafe near the library? i was thinking. we have our 9am class on thursday, so maybe we could get breakfast together at 8?

 

**Jun**

i know the one! i'd love to

 

**Hao from dance :)**

cool :) see u then

 

Jun waits to see if anymore texts come through, tries to decide whether he should send any more himself. He wants to, never wants to stop talking to Minghao, but then he remembers- _Why do you text me so much? it’s really annoying. I can’t be checking my phone all day, I have more important things to do._

Jun turns his phone off. It probably needs to charge anyway.

He gets up from where he was sitting on the couch, feeling like he’s full of helium. His feet are so light when they hit the floor. He can’t wait until Thursday, until he gets to see Minghao again. This is the first time he’s felt this happy, this anything, about something in a while. 

But then, he starts to get nervous. There’s a reason he avoids the cafe- the same reason he only does his grocery shopping really late at night, and skips lunch instead of ordering food on campus. He can never keep track of the constantly changing drinks on the menu, and there are always so many people. What if he stutters when he orders? What if he doesn’t give them the right amount of change? What if he spills something on himself? It’s easier to just not go. 

But he can’t back out on Minghao now. Minghao was so nice to him, had complimented him, had made him enjoy dance class for the first time in what seems like forever. He can deal with the nausea and the panic and the shaky hands if it means he gets to have Minghao smile at him again.

Jun goes and grabs a notepad and pen from his side-table. He flips it open and starts to write a list of small talk for him to memorise for Thursday, writes a list of conversation topics, and questions to ask, so there won’t be any awkward silences. So Minghao will want to be his friend.

 

🍁🍁🍁

 

Thursday morning comes around and Jun feels sick. Not ill sick. He just has a stomach-ache, and his hands are cold and shaky, and he can’t stop pulling at his hair. He wants to cancel, but at the same time, cancelling is the thing he least wants to do in the entire world.

He changes his outfit about three times, before he realises he won’t have time to change into his practice clothes before class. So instead of the nice jeans and button up shirt he was wearing, he puts on his sweats, and a nice t-shirt, finds a loose navy blue sweater to wear over the top that he can take off before practice. 

He stands in front of the mirror for about ten minutes, trying to fix his hair, then brushes his teeth even though it will make the food taste weird. After that, he checks the time and panics. He grabs his bag quickly and rushes to catch his bus. 

He gets there far too early, since he was so scared of being late, so he ducks into the library and sits in the bathroom on his phone, googles the menu items so he’ll know what to order. 

When it’s five minutes until eight, he leaves for the cafe. He doesn’t know whether he should wait outside, or go inside and wait for Minghao at one of the tables. Maybe he should text Minghao that he’s here, he thinks. His palms are slightly sweaty when he reaches into his pocket for his phone.

Luckily, when he comes out of the library, he sees Minghao standing in front of the cafe, wearing a different tracksuit to the one he wore on Monday, this time a navy blue. He’s not wearing a hat this time, and Jun can see his hair properly. It’s long, and soft looking, and fluffy like he just got out of the shower. 

Minghao doesn’t see Jun come out of the library, which Jun is relieved about, since he’d probably ask what Jun was doing in there. But when he does catch sight of Jun, Minghao beams, bright and warm.

“Am I l-l-late?” Jun asks, once he's reaches Minghao.

“No, I’m just early.” Minghao says. Then the strangest thing happens. Minghao pulls him into a hug.  

Jun’s shoulders slump, it feels so nice, but he still tenses slightly out of surprise, and Minghao pulls back quickly.

Jun wants Minghao to hug him again. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him, apart from the times people have accidentally bumped into him during dance class, or the times he gets caught walking through a crowd on campus.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked.” Minghao looks so worried, so angry at himself. “My friends are really affectionate. It’s kind of a reflex to hug people hello. I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

“N-no,” Jun says quickly, a little too forcefully and Minghao winces, so he quickly clarifies, “I liked it. R-really.”

Minghao visibly relaxes. He looks at Jun, really looks at Jun, then he reaches out and tentatively pats Jun on the arm, then ruffles his hair. Jun tries not to lean into his touch. 

“Let’s go inside.” Minghao says.

The door jingles when they enter, the little bell above it swinging wildly, and an employee wiping down a table by the entrance mutters a barely enthusiastic welcome. 

It’s pretty quiet inside the cafe, and Jun’s really glad about that. He’s feeling okay now. Doesn’t even flinch when people look up at them as Minghao leads them to a table all the way in the back, away from everyone else. Jun thinks he’s picked the perfect spot, the light from outside streaming in through the window just so. 

Once he’s sat down, Jun strokes across the little embroidered cushion on the chair, his palms are shoved underneath his thighs so he wont get the urge to wring his hands.

Minghao says, “I’m glad you agreed to come here with me. I walked past here the other day and it looked so nice inside. It made me think of you.”

Jun opens and closes his mouth. It’s such a nice thing for Minghao to say to him, especially since they barely know each other. Jun doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that someone could walk past this cafe - this cosy, warmly lit cafe with beautiful photographs hanging on the walls - and think of him, let alone want to come here with him. 

Once again, Minghao doesn’t look offended by Jun’s silence, he just watches him, then realises Jun maybe isn’t so fond of being watched so intently, and shifts his gaze to look at the photographs on the wall instead. 

Jun doesn’t mind the silence either. He likes it. He likes Minghao’s company. But soon he starts to feel jittery again. He has to go up and order soon, and he’s already forgotten what he decided he wanted when he was in the library. He tries to get a look at the menu from there, but they’re seated too far away from the front counter.

“What do you want? I’ll order for you.” Minghao says, like he _knows._ Like he can see the thoughts running through Jun’s head. It’s both terrifying and comforting at the same time.

“Something sweet.” Jun says. _Like you,_ he doesn’t add. “Hot chocolate maybe?”

Minghao nods, gets a little half-smile on his face, like he somehow picked up on what Jun just thought about him. Then he turns and crosses the cafe to the front counter.

Jun watches him order, watches him laugh at something the cashier says, like maybe they know each other, watches him hand Minghao two large muffins from the display cabinet. He looks away quickly when Minghao turns to come back, so he won’t catch Jun staring. 

“Here you go.” Minghao says, sliding a blueberry muffin across the table when he sits down. “I forgot to ask what you wanted to eat. You like sweet things, so I just guessed. Did I do okay.”

Jun nods, and Minghao looks pleased, which makes Jun pleased, and all around, this is turning out to be a really good morning. “H-how has your w-week been?” Jun asks. He mentally crosses the question off from his conversation list.

“It’s been great.” Minghao says. “I’ve met a lot of cool people. I really like it here. It’s much nicer than my old university.”

Jun nods along, tries hard to look like he’s paying attention. Sometimes people think he’s zoned out, or rude, because he doesn’t really like to make eye contact, and he doesn’t want Minghao to think that. 

“What about you?” Minghao asks. “How’s your week been?”

“Good.” He says, and Minghao smiles encouragingly. Jun can’t really think of anything interesting to tell him, but he’s okay with that for some reason, isn't worried that Minghao will be bored by him. “I-I’ve been watching this n-n-new show on Netflix.”

Minghao nods. “What’s the show about?”

And, miraculously, Jun tells him. He stutters through his explanation and he has trouble arranging his sentences. Sometimes he mumbles, or trails off, not used to talking to anyone this much in one go, since he really only speaks to his parents. His mother does most of the talking during their phone calls, and his dad is the gruff silent type, so usually he only has to manage short replies, and can hide his stutter pretty well.

But Minghao doesn’t seem to mind it. He doesn’t look disinterested, or annoyed when Jun has to think for a while before he says something - sometimes he even fills the silence so Jun has more time to choose his words. He manages to follow Jun’s confusing tangents and waits patiently when his stutter causes him to get stuck on a word. But mostly, he just looks happy. Happy to be talking with him, happy to have met him.

Later, when he’s walking to class with Minghao, who is animatedly explaining a technique used by some famous artist, arms waving everywhere, Jun thinks, for the first time, that maybe everything is going to be okay.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> comments/kudos are immensely appreciated <3


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